


Maryse's Halloween Happiness

by Fluxx



Series: The Spook Cruise, 2017 [8]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, I think?, Maruke, halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 23:49:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12398772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluxx/pseuds/Fluxx
Summary: Luke and Maryse are attending Magnus's Halloween party, and it's got Maryse more than a bit anxious. Luke provides what encouragement he can, and between him, her family, and their friends, perhaps Maryse can finally learn to believe that she, too, deserves to be happy.Prompt response for The Spook Cruise, 2017:Maruke + Halloween party.Submit a prompt for The Spook Cruise!





	Maryse's Halloween Happiness

Maryse pursed her lips, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. Frantic fingertips raced all along the edges of her wig, seeking out rebellious strands of hair and harshly stuffing them beneath the wig’s cap. Turning her head, she studied the opposite end of her hairline, then uttered another irritated huff and moved to resume her assault.

A large, strong hand caught hers, calloused fingers slipping around the curve of her palm. “Maryse,” Luke chuckled, his voice a deep whisper against her ear. “It’s  _fine_.”

She spun around to face him, and her breath hitched at just how close he was standing to her. Staring up at him, wide-eyed, hardly a few inches separated their lips, and her hand hovered just barely above the crest of his broad chest. She breathed out in a sigh, black-painted lips curling into a smile, and laid her hand upon the thick, forest-green fabric of his suit-jacket. “Sorry,” she replied, fondly tracing the edge of his costume’s collar. “I’m just…”

When she didn’t finish, Luke inclined his head and slipped his fingers beneath her chin. “…Nervous?”

Maryse averted her eyes and lowered her hand, anxiously shying into herself. “It’s a very…  _different_  kind of party than I’m used to,” she grumbled, hands clutching her elbows. The long, white fabric of her dress hung like curtains from her squared shoulders, layers upon layers of sheer cloth giving her an overall ghastly but elegant presence.

Luke laughed, giving her some space and returning to her makeup table. “You’re allowed to have fun, you know.” He picked up the little foam block that’d come with his costume’s makeup kit, dabbing it into the vat of pale, sickly-green pigment to finish coating the rest of his face. “Stop worrying so much and just… be yourself.”

“It’s not that,” Maryse sighed, plucking a mascara tube from the table. She imagined she looked a bit ridiculous, leaning over like that to get as close as possible to the mirror, but if Luke wasn’t used to such appearances yet he’d certainly have to sooner rather than later. “I hurt them, Lucian,” she muttered at her reflection, carefully thickening her lashes. “What I did… Everything I’d worked for… It’s unforgivable.”

Luke took his time before answering, partly because he wasn’t the sort to offer empty platitudes and partly because he was debating whether or not to smother his beard. “Maybe I should have shaved,” he grumbled, and was met with a tube of lipstick thrown against his arm. He turned to share a snicker with Maryse, then put away the foam applicator, ultimately deciding to leave the natural brown skin beneath his facial hair well enough alone.

“Listen,” he began, reaching out to take Maryse’s hand comfortingly into his own, “if Magnus had a nickel for every time he’d been wronged, he wouldn’t have to sell ten different kinds of love potions to pay his rent.”

Maryse caught herself from saying something less-than-kind, then shook her head and looked down at Luke’s hands, her thumb fondly tracing back and forth along his cracked and weary knuckles. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No,” Luke conceded, standing up and releasing Maryse’s hand. As he did, he plucked a pair of metallic nubs from the table - the final touches to his costume.  He turned to study himself in the mirror, eying the sides of his neck while he applied the cosmetic adhesive to the base of the nubs. “But things will improve. Alec will make sure of that.”

She nodded, unable to suppress the wide grin breaking out across her face. “Yes, he will. He was always such a sweet, good little boy. Seeing the man he’s become…”

With his bolts in place, Luke turned from the mirror and gave Maryse a wink. “He came from  _some_ where, you know.”

It was a kind sentiment, one that brought a gentle smile playing across Maryse’s lips. She didn’t know quite how much she actually  _believed_  it, that she could have had anything to do with just how benevolent her son had become given her past deeds and attitudes, but she appreciated the words nonetheless. She accepted them with a small, smiling nod, and turned to follow Luke towards the door of her room, a hand lifting a thick, wool coat from the coat hanger and slipping it over her arms and shoulders. As usual, Luke opened and held the door for her, even though she was ultimately the one who had to turn around beyond the threshold to lock it, and then the pair were moving swiftly through the Institute’s labyrinth of halls, hand-in-hand and eager to join the others at Magnus’s loft.

They were among the last to arrive - a conscious decision on Maryse’s part, so the rest of Magnus’s guests had time to mingle, occupy themselves, and in doing so find some excuse or other to not have to greet or even acknowledge her presence in the first place. Still, in typical Magnus Bane fashion, their host greeted her with a wide, warm smile and a sweeping arm. “Welcome, welcome!” he declared, drawing aside so the pair could step through his doorway. “Refreshments are at that booth near the balcony. Food, snacks, and deserts are scattered throughout. Please, make yourselves at home!”

Luke reached out and patted Magnus’s shoulder with his large, firm hand, passing his friend a grin. “Thanks, Magnus. Love what you’ve done with the place,” he added, throwing a quick glance around the loft’s festive decorations.

Clary’s voice broke through before Magnus could reply. “Luke! You’re here!” Her brilliantly red hair bobbed beneath a tri-cornered hat as she scurried up to them, a wide grin set across her eye-patched face.

Simon was close behind, eyes wide and hands raised. “No, that’s not Luke!” he cried in feigned alarm. “It’s Frankenstein’s monster!”

Luke snickered at him, a judgmental look scaling Simon head-to-toe. “And Dracula? Are you serious?”

“ _Dead_  serious,” Simon traded with a wink. He turned his head to Maryse, and immediately a brow shot skyward. “And... the  _Bride_  of Frankenstein... ?” His dark eyes darted suggestively between Luke and Maryse.

Maryse’s eyes shot wide, her lips pursed, and color leaked through the matte of her makeup. Clary threw a sharp smack to Simon’s arm. Luke waved the pair of them off, his hand moving from Magnus’s shoulder to slip comfortingly along Maryse’s lower back. “Go on! Shoo, you damn brats!”

Clary rolled her eyes and grabbed Simon by the elbow, dragging him off while he gave Luke a final wiggle of his brows.

Magnus, meanwhile, had taken to rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I think I might portal that boy to the Sahara.”

“May wanna wait a bit.” Alec had quietly stepped up beside them, an arm hooking around Magnus’s midsection to pull him into a hug from behind. His chin perched upon Magnus’s shoulder, and his free hand held out his cell phone for mildly-intrigued study. “Sun won’t be up for another five hours, at least.”

As she watched her son kiss his boyfriend’s cheek, Maryse’s face brightened - it suddenly dawned on her what Magnus was dressed up as. “Oh!” she cried delightedly. “Aladdin and the Genie!”

Alec looked up with a bright, gleaming smile, then pocketed his phone and stood up, arms spread in presentation of his costume - a store-bought set that featured a purple vest, loose white pants, and a thick, red waist wrap.

Magnus eyed him with a gentle chuckle, one hand idly straightening Alec’s vest. “ _I’d_  wanted him to wear the prince version, but he insisted this was more recognizable.”

Alec parted his lips, but though he ultimately decided against it the look in his eyes betrayed the flirtatious nature of whatever he’d been about to say. Suddenly a bit self-conscious, he pulled his vest a little further around his torso, glancing warily at his mother, and folded his arms across his chest. He did what he could to make it look casual, but he couldn’t hide his emotions from anyone -  _least_  of all his boyfriend and his mother.

Maryse chuckled at her son’s modesty, then turned to Magnus, dark eyes flickering over his glittering attire. “It’s quite the tasteful ensemble. I hadn’t realized it was a costume at first, but I definitely see it now!”

In contrast to Alec’s outfit, Magnus had compiled his costume from various pieces from his wardrobe. His shirt and pants were both blue, but the pants were so dark they were really more like navy or even black and the shirt was light enough to almost be considered cyan. Clusters of gold bangles jingled around both wrists, his fingers sporting their usual assortment of rings. A red, tasseled belt was slipped through his belt loops, and his shoes completed the look with bold, deep crimson snakeskin. Of course, blue eye shadow and a spattering of silvery glitter decorated his black-lined eyes.

Magnus flourished his arms to his sides and gave a winning smile. “Why thank you, Maryse!” His eyes darted between her and Luke, and then he turned to his fellow Downworlder and offered a hand. “Care for a drink?”

“Absolutely,” Luke grinned. He turned and pressed a kiss to the side of Maryse’s head. “You want anything?”

“Champagne would be lovely,” she requested with a smile.

Magnus looked to Alec, who nodded to the nearby console table where he’d placed his recently-opened beer. They exchanged wordless farewells, their gazes saying all they needed to, then returned to their current charges: Magnus to Luke, and Alec to his mother.

“You look so happy,” Maryse replied softly, unable to hold herself back any longer. She stepped forward and pulled Alec into a tight hug, her son’s self-consciousness be damned.

Alec had no choice but to sigh and return the hug, and couldn’t keep his lips from pulling up at the corners. “You, too,” he replied, giving her a tight squeeze. “I’m really glad you worked things out with Luke.”

“He’s more than I deserve,” Maryse sighed, admittedly a bit more dreamily than she’d intended.

Her son caught it, of course, and tilted his head to try and catch her eyes. “Hey,” he replied, loosening his arms and finally finding her face. “He’s your happiness. Everyone deserves happiness.”

She looked up at him, a kind of pleading gleam in her gaze. “Do I?”

Alec studied her. Ultimately, he knew, even if everyone in the world forgave her, she’d still have to find a way to forgive herself. That was something he’d only recently learned, and he’d had to do it the hard way. His eyes drifted over to where Luke stood, exchanging banter with Magnus, and finally a thought occurred to him. He tightened his hug of his mother’s shoulders and pointed at them, then replied, “You’re ultimately glad I...  _we_... managed to make this work, right?” he asked, his hand gesturing between him and Magnus.

Maryse frowned, almost mortified by the thought Alec could think any differently. “Of course I am!”

“Well...” Alec let go of her and turned to face her. There was no overly sweet smile, no grin, no pleading look - only his usual, quiet sincerity, the look he got when he truly meant whatever he was saying. “I found something I believed in, and I fought like hell for it.  _You_  taught me that.” He turned his head to nod to where Simon had picked up banter with Isabelle. “You taught us  _both_  that.” He looked back at her, somewhat hesitant, then offered a half-smile. “At its very core... When you strip away all the details and the specifics, and you just look at the... the  _character_  of it? It’s the same thing.”

She marveled her son.  _When did you become so wise?_  she silently wondered. Her eyes trailed back to Luke, to the comfort he’d tried to offer her earlier, and maybe, just  _maybe_ , she found herself starting to believe in his every word.

“Yes. I suppose you’re right.”


End file.
